


Famous Uris Promise

by jonesyslug



Series: I Wanna Get Better! [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fuck Stephen King, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesyslug/pseuds/jonesyslug
Summary: Stan gets the most disturbing phonecall of his life. It shakes him to his core, and he finds out who he really wants to be.





	Famous Uris Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I did not proofread this. It is 5 a.m. and I just finished it. It's Stan Love Posting Hours. Please enjoy, and if you so desire, fill your mind with images of Andy Bean, who doesn't exactly fit the way I describe Stan in this fic, but who is very beautiful and deserved more screen time. 
> 
> Also I actually added breaks in rich text this time instead of just leaving dashes, hopefully that is easier on the eyes.

"Hello, Uris residence, Stanley speaking!" He chirped down the phone line. 

There was a moment, a sort of static sound, before someone finally spoke on the other side. The voice was warm and tired. 

"Stan the Man. It's Mike Hanlon." 

Stan's hand started to shake. _ Mike Hanlon. From Derry, Maine. Remember Derry, Stanley? _

The voice in his head was raspy and teasing. It wasn't his own.

"M-Mike!" Stan said, switching the phone to his other hand. But it didn't help. This one was shaking, too. And stinging, like it had been injured. "It's been a while!" Stan said, trying to hide his nerves with a smile. A smile Mike couldn't even see. "What's uh-" Stan swallowed thickly. "How are you, Mike?" 

Another beat. Stan's heart was racing. He knew what Mike was going to say before he said it. He knew what Mike was going to say before his mind could even make sense of it. 

"_ It's _ back, Stan." 

A tear ran down Stan's face. He stood completely still. Barely breathing. 

"You have to come back. I'm calling everyone, but I thought I'd call you first, all things considered." 

"R-right." Stan mumbled. Was he supposed to know what that meant? 

Mike kept talking. His voice was surprisingly level and soft, even in its urgency. He must have known- this wasn't a surprise to him. 

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, Stan?" 

Stan snapped back into the conversation. 

"M...mmhmm." Stan hummed into the phone, as he nodded his head slowly. 

"Okay. I'll let you go pack, then. Safe travels." 

"Bye, Mike." He said, automatically. The phone stayed next to his ear even a few seconds after the dial tone started buzzing. He slowly put it back in the cradle. 

"Honey, who was that on the phone?" His wife asked, as she rounded the corner. 

She looked at his face. It was pale and his eyes were wide, staring down at his hands. His face was streaked with solidly flowing, silent tears. 

She ran to him. "Stan?" She asked, cupping his face. "Stan, honey, what's wrong? What happened?" 

Stan wrapped his arms around his wife and started to sob. 

She held him tightly, scared out of her wits. 

"Stan…"

Stan's sobs were slowing. He pulled himself back enough to look her in the eyes. 

"I have to go home. To Maine." 

* * *

Patricia had talked him into taking some time to calm down and think. He laid in the bath she had drawn for him, something warm and familiar, and now- it was just uncomfortable. He shouldn't be resting, he should be doing _ something! _Anything but this. The urgency in his chest was sinking into his stomach and turning into bile. This was a time for action, any kind of action. 

But Patti was so freaked out- he couldn't leave her like that. He was doing this for her. 

He looked down at his hands. He was scared to death, too. The scar on his hand was raised and pink, like it was new. He ran his fingers over it. 

He remembered why Mike would call him first, now. 

It was his idea. His promise. _ If It ever comes back, we come back too. _

He took a deep breath. Did he have to go back? Did he have to look that in the eyes again? He remembered- the deadlights- the way they called, and he had wanted to be there too…

He stared up at the light fixture. "I wanna be there, too." He whispered. 

He looked at the sink. There was his straight razor. 

_ Come on, Stan. You'll float down here. _

There it was again. That wasn't his voice. Those weren't his thoughts. But he was standing. 

_ Remember how good it felt to be in that light, Stanley? You can come back. Forever. _

Stan's eyes were still on the razor, one foot out of the bath. Then then next. Then a step from the bath mat to the cold tile, then- 

The door swung open. Patricia was there with a beer. "Are you done with your bath already, Stanley?" 

Stan looked down, watching water drip off him into the dark blue tile. He grabbed his towel off the bar and wrapped it around his waist. 

_ What were you doing, Stan? _

Now it was his voice. Angry. What was he doing? He was so scared, so scared, so sure he was going to die- but, why would he even think of _ that _as an option? Taking his odds of never seeing his wife again all the way to 100 percent. Going back on the promise he'd forced everyone else to make. No way. Not Stan Uris. 

He leaned down and kissed Patti softly, taking the beer out of her hand.

"Yeah, I think I've had enough of the bath. I have to start packing now, sweetie." 

He cracked open the beer and took a long sip. 

"You're really going?" His wife asked, quietly.

He nodded. "I promised, Pats." 

Patti nodded, then gave him a little bit of a smile. Stan and his promises. That was something he took very seriously. "Alright. Promise me you'll be safe, then?" 

Stan fought a frown. "I'll do my best, Patti." 

* * *

Stan nodded off on the plane, as impossible as he'd thought that would be. He didn't wake up until the plane touched down in Maine, skidding along the runway in lurching movements, throwing his glasses off his nose. 

He scrambled after them, missing before they hit the floor. He patted around, blindly, then someone tapped him on the shoulder. 

"Looking for these?" 

The familiar shape of his glasses were pushed into his palm. 

"Thank yo-" it died in his throat. He recognized that voice. He hesitated to put his glasses on. A hand with a white glove waved at him, flexing each finger. 

"Welcome home, Stanley." It hissed from between a mass of razor sharp teeth. 

Stan screamed as he felt it grab his shoulder and start to shake him, leaning in with its hideous mouth dripping with saliva, poised to bite. Then, it snapped its jaw. 

"Hey, are you okay, man?" 

Stan woke with a gasp. Someone had his arm in a vice grip, shaking him. He blinked. It was not the clown. Just some kid in his twenties, headphones hanging around his neck, looking concerned and confused. 

Stan's heart was pounding and his breathing was heavy. His vision started to focus and he could see people from other aisles staring, a flight attendant lingering beside him. A baby was crying a few rows back. 

"You were screaming in your sleep, sir…" the flight attendant told him, solemnly. 

Stan shook his head. "I'm-" he looked at the man in the seat next to him, who had finally let go of his arm. "I-" 

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I'm terribly sorry." He said, not looking at anyone in particular. 

_ Bing bing. _The "seatbelts on" sign flicked off, and the intercom came on. "We have landed at Bangor International Airport. Feel free to move about the cabin and begin your exit. Welcome to Maine." 

* * *

Stan walked nervously into Jade of The Orient. He was still marveling at how much the town had changed. Of course it had changed, it'd been nearly 30 years, but it just...hadn't occurred to him until he was there. He hadn't even thought to wonder if a single brick or stone was different. 

He gave Mike's name to the waitress, and she led him to a room in the back. It was empty. Was he really the first one there? Even before _ Mike? _

_ Well, it was YOUR promise, Stan the Man. Maybe the rest of us are a little more reluctant to get our goose cooked by a psychotic, shape-shifting clown. _

That wasn't his voice, but it wasn't the one he dreaded. It was familiar and chipper, a voice that had lived in his head before he moved out of Derry. Richie Tozier. 

Stan paced the room a bit. What if no one else showed up? Mike had been the one who called, but perhaps even he'd had second thoughts, by now. There had been plenty of time for it. Stan thought about his own second thoughts and started to worry. His heart ached. What if someone _ had _gone that route? He wasn't sure he could take it, now that he remembered them. How had he forgotten them? He loved them so deeply, it ached. How had they all been apart for so long? 

He caught his reflection in a mirror above the small bar in the corner. God, he looked tired. Tired and old. He patted at his curly hair, trying to get it to rest on his head. It looked frantic, cartoonish, even, the way it was sticking out every which way. He hadn't seen his reflection since he'd left his bath last night. 

"St-st-Stan-"

Stan saw someone behind him in the mirror and turned around. 

"Bill." His lungs felt empty. There he was. God, Bill was real? The way his memories elevated him above other people, above reality, he'd been doubting it.

Bill shifted and smiled, shyly. "Bill!" Stan said, throwing open his arms and grinning. 

Bill walked quickly towards him and hugged him. 

"M-man! L-l-look at you!" Bill said, smiling as he clapped Stan on the back. 

"Me? I'm not the big author!" Stan said, pulling back and putting his hands on Bill's shoulders. 

Bill looked tired too, but Stan thought Bill didn't look as old as he himself did. He _ was _rich, though. He probably used some sort of fancy creams that Stan could never be bothered with. 

Bill looked shy, at the author comment. "It-its not a b-b-big deal, S-Stan." 

"Ah, don't be so modest. My wife loves your stuff." Stan scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Sorry, but I never uh," he took his hands off Bill's shoulders and they fumbled about, awkwardly. "I'm not a fan of horror, so I never-"

Bill smiled. "Don't worry about it, Stan."

* * *

Stan's worry slipped away and turned into an anxious kind of joy as everyone else showed up, one by one. 

Mike, whose smile was just as warm, if not warmer now, with his laugh lines. Eddie, looking even more nervous than Stan felt, but still managing to crack a smile as he made his way across the room. Ben and Beverly, walking in at the same time, and oh God, Ben… Stan wouldn't have realized it was him, were it not for the moony expression he wore, completely fixated on Bev as they walked in together. Goodness, some things never changed. 

They were all chatting in a tight circle next to the bar, a few of them sipping on drinks, just talking, so happy to be near each other again. 

Stan's mind was starting to nag him. Richie hadn't shown up, yet. Of course, if anyone was going to be heinously late, it was Richie Tozier. But Stan worried. He thought about how the razor had looked, gleaming against the white porcelain sink. Almost as bright as the deadlights. Stan was about to interrupt the general conversation to ask if anyone had heard from Richie, when- 

_ BANG! _

Everyone swirled around, and there was Richie Tozier, next to the gong, stick in hand, absolutely _ unrepentant. _

"Richie!" Stan called out. For a moment, he forgot why they were all there. It felt like something nice and inconsequential. Just a little high school reunion, and there was the guy, the first best friend he'd ever had. Hell, maybe even the first real friend he'd ever had.

Everyone was talking over each other to say hello, moving all together to make room for Richie in their little circle, but Stan was bolting across the room, and scooped Richie up in a hug. 

Richie was surprised when his feet left the floor. 

"Woah there, Pudgemiester General!" He laughed. Stan put him back down. 

"Trashmouth!" Stan said, ruffling Richie's hair. 

Richie grinned and poked Stan in the belly. 

"You're gonna put Haystack to shame. Where is he, anyway?" Richie asked, making a big act of looking over Stan's shoulder. Stan was only 5'7". He was hardly obscuring Richie's view. 

Ben held up his hand. "I think I need a new nickname." He said, with a laugh. 

Richie pushed Stan back towards the group, and pulled all of them into a group hug. 

Stan felt so warm, between Mike and Richie, all of them holding onto each other. 

"Guys, I-" Mike sounded a little choked up. Stan looked up at him. He was smiling, too. 

Richie reached his long arm into the circle and clapped Mike on the cheek. "Nothing sappy until I've had a drink, Mike." 

Eddie made a face. "You smell like you've already had a few." 

"Who said that?" Richie asked, swiveling his head around, looking up to the ceiling. Eddie sighed, and Richie's head turned down towards him. 

"Oh, there you are, Eds! Why don't you come up here and join the rest of us?" 

"Hey, I'm taller than Stan!" Eddie said, indignantly. 

Stan gave a great big belly laugh. 

Holy shit, he had missed his friends. 

* * *

Stan's hands were shaking. The waitress stared around the room and the wreckage with confusion. 

"Yeah uh-" Richie stepped forward, so he wasn't plastered against the wall in fear. He adjusted his glasses. "I think we're ready for the check." 

Stan couldn't have said it better, himself. 

They all walked out, shaken by what they had seen. Stan wasn't sure who said it first, but there were murmurs all around him about going home. He looked up. Mike's face was desperate and pleading. His mouth opened a few times, trying to find the right words to say, but Stan had them. 

"You all promised." He said, firmly. 

Everyone stopped and looked at him. He held his hand up, fingers spread wide to display the scar on his palm. "Or, don't you remember? We didn't just promise, it was a _ blood oath." _

Richie sighed. "Stan, it was 27 years ago…" 

Stan frowned, disappointed. "Well, I'm staying. Because someone has to do something, and I'm not letting Mike do it alone." 

Richie was looking at his shoes. Eddie was looking towards the street, holding his arm.

The three Bs all looked at each other. 

No one could meet Stan's eyes. He marched over and stood next to Mike. 

"Richie, do you remember what you said to me, that day down in the Barrens? When you guys saved me from Bowers. Do you remember what you said?" Mike asked.

Richie swallowed. "I think I said, 'Welcome to The Loser's Club, Homeschool.'." Richie said, with an odd little laugh. 

"After that." Mike tried. 

Ben looked up. "I remember what he said, because it scared me. Because I was thinking it." 

Richie looked up at him, confused. 

Bill nodded. "L-lucky S-" he cleared his throat. "S-Seven."

"We were all supposed to be there…" Bev whispered. 

"And we're all supposed to be here _ now. _" Stan said, with a pointed look at Eddie, who still looked like he was edging away from them all. Stan scanned his eyes over the rest of them. Richie was looking at his shoes again. 

Stan licked his lips. He was going to have to come to terms with the fact that maybe his friends weren't who he thought they'd be. 

"Mike, what do we do next?" 

"I'm going back to the library. I sincerely hope to see you all there." He started to walk away, but Stan grabbed his wrist. 

"I'll drive you." He said, dangling the keys to his rental in front of Mike's face. Mike smiled. 

* * *

Stan paced as he waited for Mike, who was collecting books, papers, and notebooks from all over the library. 

_ Everyone's going to show up. They have to show up. Why would they come all the way here if they weren't going to show up? _

But he knew, he didn't completely believe that. He knew because he was pulling on his ear, something he had done as a kid when he was scared. 

The double doors to the library came open with a bang. Stan's head snapped up. 

Eddie was standing there, holding a brown paper bag. 

Stan grinned. "Eddie…" 

Eddie nodded tersely. "Where's Mike?" 

"He's getting stuff together." 

Eddie nodded again and walked into the library, leaning onto the counter Stan was pacing behind. 

He laid his face onto it. The cold marble against his cheek felt good. It was grounding. 

"Please tell me this is just a nightmare, Stan." 

Stan frowned and petted Eddie's hair. It was a natural reflex, something that had come back to him somewhere between hearing Mike's voice over the phone and remembering his old address. 

"'Fraid not, Eddie." 

Eddie groaned and turned so that he was face down on the counter. 

"Why did I pick up the phone?" He asked, putting his hands to his ears. Stan couldn't think of anything to say that would make him feel better. All he knew was that they were all supposed to be there. But for all he knew, they were all supposed to be there to die… 

Stan chewed his lip as he kept petting Eddie's hair. He couldn't be thinking like _ that. _He couldn't give up before he even knew what they were going to do. 

"Eddie?!" 

Stan hadn't even noticed the door open this time. Richie was standing there, a paper bag tucked under his arm. He rushed into the library and sat the bag down on the counter. 

"Eddie?" He asked, putting his hands on Eddie's shoulders. Eddie didn't move. 

Richie looked up at Stan, his eyes demanding an explanation. 

"He's just a little freaked out, Rich." 

"We all are." Mike said from behind Stan, coming down the stairs with books and folders piled high in his arms. 

Stan stopped rubbing Eddie's head to go help Mike with the books. 

Eddie stood upright, and groaned, hands still firmly clasped over his ears, and shoved his face against Richie's chest. 

Richie floundered for a moment before wrapping his arms around Eddie. 

"It's okay, Eds." He said, rubbing his back.

The door opened, and this time they all knew it, because thunder boomed outside at the same moment. Ben shuffled in, hunched over, his hair and shoulders wet. 

"Hey." He said, scooting in. He had a paper bag, too. 

"Jesus, did you all go to the liquor store before you got here?" Stan joked. 

Ben looked at him with a bit of embarrassment, and took a large bottle of Burbon out of his paper bag.

Eddie turned, and Richie reluctantly released him. He pulled a glass bottle of gin out of his bag, then a plastic bottle of prune juice. 

Richie chuckled, then reached for his own bag. "Actually, I went back to the Townhouse. I got this from the Duty Free." He said, producing a huge bottle of Malibu. 

Stan shook his head. 

Mike laughed a little. "Actually, I have beers in the fridge, Stan, I was going to see if you wanted one."

Stan sighed with a smile and fell back into the desk chair. 

"Sure, why not?" 

Much to Ben's dismay, Bill and Bev arrived at the same time, laughing as Bill held his coat over Bev to shield her from the rain. They had their own paper bags. 

"How many fucking liquor stores are there in Derry?" Stan laughed. 

"What?" Bev asked, shaking her hair out. 

"You all managed to get booze and not run into each other?" Stan asked, in disbelief. 

Bev scanned the room, then started laughing. 

Her laugh was so warm that they all got swept up in it. Even Eddie seemed relaxed for a second. 

Bill and Mike pushed some study tables together and everyone sat around, fixing themselves drinks. 

Mike finished organizing his papers and took a deep breath. 

"All right. You guys ready?" 

* * *

_ They're caught in the deadlights! They're caught in the fucking deadlights, do something, Stan! _

Stan kept close to the ground, refusing to look up. He couldn't do it again. If he looked in the deadlights again, it was over. It was all over for him, and maybe it was over for everyone. He stared at everyone's ankles. Beverly and Eddie were on the move. 

Eddie was walking _ towards _It. To the deadlights. He was saying something, but Stan couldn't hear him over the rush of blood pounding in his ears. 

_ I want to be there too… _

"Eddie, don't!" Stan yelled, jumping up with his eyes closed and rushing forward. 

He grabbed Eddie's skinny frame and tackled him to the ground. He heard roaring behind him. He opened his eyes to look at Eddie's face. The cave was dark again. The deadlights were gone, for now. 

"Shit…" Eddie breathed out heavily. Richie rushed over. 

_"Holy shit, _you two!" He said, grabbing Eddie under the armpits and pulling him to his feet. 

"What?" Stan asks. 

"Eddie, you did it!" Richie yells, picking him up in a hug, much like Stan had done to him the day before. 

Eddie laughed as much as his breath allowed, and Richie dropped him, hugging Stan quickly. 

"And _ you... _You saved the savior." 

Stan gets half a relieved laugh out before they hear screaming behind them. It is not done fighting just yet. 

* * *

They stand, in the wide mouth of a pipe, staring out at the rising sun. They are damp, dirty, and covered in blood. 

They are still alive, and It is dead. Finally, after all this time, It is dead. 

  


After they've had a moment to breathe, people split off- Ben and Bev, talking quietly, Richie talking to Eddie and Eddie staring back with a serious expression, Mike and Stan, talking excitedly about Mike's relocation to Florida. Bill stands by himself, then floats towards Mike and Stan. 

"Thank you guys for making me stay." He says, clapping both of them on the shoulders. "I finally feel like I did something right by Georgie." 

Stan smiled up at him. "None of us would be here in the first place without you, Big Bill. If you hadn't wanted to fight it 27 years ago, it wouldn't be dead today." 

Bill gives a tight smile, then lets his head hang, and gives a sigh of relief. 

"Say it again, Stan." 

"It's dead." Stan says, wrapping an arm around Bill. 

Mike laughs and Bill and Stan look at him, then follow his gaze. 

Ben and Beverly are kissing. Richie and Eddie are kissing. They stand a few feet away from each other, bizarro mirror images of a happy ending. Ben and Bev are almost the same height, their kissing is easy and soft. Richie has to lean down- or maybe Eddie is pulling him down- to kiss Eddie. Their kissing is desperate and passionate, like they're about to die instead of just having come out the other end of it. 

Stan smiles, his eyes disappearing into his cheeks. 

_ Those dorks finally did it. _he thinks, proud of Ben and Richie. 

After letting the couples kiss for what seems like an adequate amount of time, Stan clears his throat loudly. 

Ben and Bev look over, both slightly pink and happy. 

Richie and Eddie don't seem to notice, so Bill, whose voice is deeper, clears his throat loudly, and Eddie's head snaps around, his face completely red. He's still pulling on the lapels of Richie's jacket. 

Richie is in an absolute haze, like he's left the fucking planet, and now it's Mike's turn to clear his throat. 

"Wha-" Richie stammers, blinking slowly and standing up straight. 

Mike chuckles. "Sorry, sorry I just- I think Stan had something to say."

"Come here, guys." Stan says, waving them over. They all join the circle, holding onto each other. Happy. After 27 years, they finally really feel happy. 

Stan holds one hand out to Bill, and the other to Mike. There's a beat while they realize what they're supposed to do. They grab his hands, then Mike grabs Ben's hand, and Bill grabs Eddie's. 

They're all standing together in that circle, the most powerful thing any of them has ever known or experienced. 

"I want you all to promise me…" 

Richie groans jokingly, and rolls his eyes with a smile. "_ Another _famous Uris promise? What do we have to do now? Solve world hunger when we're in our sixties?" 

Everyone chuckles a bit, and Stan shakes his head. 

"I want you all to promise me it won't take 27 years for us to see each other again." 

All at once, all layered over each other, comes a flood of affirmation and assurance. Of course they aren't going to go that long without seeing each other. Never again. Not now that they remember. 

"I've got a lovely wife, and I'd like you all to meet her, sometime." Stan says. "She'll be happy to hear about all of you. She'll be happy I remember my childhood." 

Bill nods. "My wife, too. She always gets so worried about how I don't remember where I grew up. It'll be nice to put her at ease." 

Richie tilts his head. "Is your stutter gone, Bill?" 

"Yeah, I think so, Rich." 

Something else occurs to Richie and he holds his hand out to the middle of the circle. No scar. Everyone else puts their hands in too. 

All of their scars are gone. 

It's finally over. 

Bill leans in, like they're football players in a huddle. 

"What say you guys we all crash Mike's happy Floridian life this time next year?" 

Mike laughs and everyone agrees. 

"Are we… are we all just going to go home now?" Eddie asks, sounding a bit scared. 

Richie squeezes his hand. "How about… we all go back to The Townhouse and clean up, then we can have dinner together before we all hit the road." 

"As long as we don't go out for Chinese." Ben agrees. 

* * *

Stan collapses into his favorite chair with a contented sigh. Patti, who was sleeping on the couch, opens her eyes and smiles. 

"Welcome home, sweetie." She says, sitting up and holding her arms out towards him. 

He gets up and sits next to her on the couch, holding her tightly. 

"Is everything okay now, Stan?" 

"Everything is perfect." 

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck you, Stephen King, for making me have to write this, but also fuck the people who wrote the miniseries and the movies for erasing the fact that it was STANLEY URIS who made everyone promise to come back to Kill That Fuckin' Clown. 
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who read my other IT FF and left positive feedback, without you, I may not have written this, and i sure did enjoy writing it. Xoxo.


End file.
